Accidents Happen and Truths Reveal
by InvisiblePuppeteer
Summary: Derek had been longing to hear Hermione confess that she returned his feelings-but, much as he longed to hear it...to hear it amidst her tears was not how he wanted to hear her say that she loved him for the first time. Follow along in another of the Hermione and Derek Moments series.
1. Chapter 1

It was the small whimpering of his girl next to him that brought Derek out of the deep sleep he found himself in. The bed cover and most of the sheet had been kicked onto the floor, leaving the draft of the house to chill his heated skin. As Derek's eyes adjusted to the morning darkness, they quickly swept over his room trying to find any clue as to what was causing his girl's distress. It was clear when his eyes swept over her sleeping body.  
Nightmares often plagued Hermione. She told him that she didn't remember the dreams when she woke up, however Derek knew that she did. The haunted, clouded look in her eyes as she got ready in the mornings were telling. Derek never pushed her to talk to him, but had recently succeeded in getting her to speak to a professional.  
In a gentle move, Derek turned to his side and pulled her closer toward him, wrapping his arms around her. His Hermione was a very tactile human and found comfort in the touches of others. Usually pulling her close and holding her was enough to calm her and allow her to sleep peacefully...Derek quickly realized that this was not the case this time.  
Hermione began to strain against him, her eyes flying open. "No," she cried in a small voice. The negative came again, shrill and high-pitched this time, "No! Please, let me go."  
Derek's arms flew off of her almost of their own accord and he hesitantly called for her. At the sound of his voice she flung her body into a sitting position and her unseeing eyes darted towards his voice. "Hermione, sweetheart, it's just me," he said soothingly, his hands held out in front of him. As he tried to reach for her again, his hand brushed her arm and she lashed out at him. Her fingers wrapped his hand and she pushed his fingers back, straining them up and back. The strained digits sent pain signals rushing up his arm. Derek yanked his hand back, knowing that she was still dreaming, and knew that she needed to be woken up or restrained. "Hermione!" he called. "Wake up! It's me-Derek! C'mon, wake up!"  
She began muttering nonsense, pleas to be released and to hear it made his heart crack.  
His heart shattered however when she started crying. Hopeless tears began trailing down her cheeks and she began scratching at her arm where a terrible scar marred her body. She was going to hurt herself, he realized as she drug her nails deeply into her skin. With a deep breath, he lunged at the woman trapped in her nightmare before she could hurt herself. His strong arms wrapped around her, pinning her arms. "Shh. Shhh… It's okay. I've got you." He continued to whisper and croon to her, even as she dealt a painful elbow to his sternum. "It's just me, sweetheart. Oh, Hermione. Be calm. It's okay-you're safe. Nothing's going to hurt you. I've got you."

He held her to him until the sun rose.

When Derek walked into Hotch's office he was fussing with the wrap on his hand, tightening it and wincing as it put pressure on the strain.  
"You're hurt… Something happen last night," he inquired, knowing that Derek was not injured when he left the office last night.  
"I'm fine," Derek said dismissively, flinching as he lowered himself into the chair across from Hotch and his desk.  
"What else is hurt?"  
Derek sighed, "Hand, sternum. Just a few scratches and bruises. I'm fine, Hotch."  
The unit chief stared at him, "If this is something that we need to report..."  
After such a long night and the worries that were plaguing Derek's mind became too fraying on his patience, he roughly cut off his boss. "Hermione had night terrors," he growled.  
Not much fazed Aaron Hotchner, but this seemed to startle him. "Is she alright?"  
Derek sighed. "She doesn't even remember. I came back late and she was already asleep." Derek rested his head in his uninjured hand. "She's never had a night terror that bad before..."  
Hotch watched his team member with a careful eye, before asking if he knew what she dreaming of.  
Derek swallowed and looked up, his facial features stressed and his eyes red with sleep deprivation. "Pretty sure it's of when she was held hostage."  
The unit chief's eyes widened, "Hermione?"  
To his surprise, Derek huffed out a laugh-it was dark and bitter. "Yeah. My Hermione," he growled. He stood up to pace, too stressed and agitated to continue sitting.  
"Is she getting help? Did they get the man who did it?"  
Derek didn't respond immediately, he was lost in the memory of when he found out about what had happened to her.  
 _They had been in his home. It was early enough in their relationship that they hadn't yet slept together … But not so early that Derek was hesitant to commit. That was what this night was about, actually. He was going to do it. Tell the woman of his dreams that she was the love of his life-and if tonight ended with them naked and moaning, that was fine by him. Derek ached to feel her skin against his and it left him feeling restless on more nights than he cared to admit.  
He glanced at her from where he was cooking in the kitchen to where she was lounging, playing with Clooney. She was sitting on the ground, wrestling with his dog and looking lovely while she did. Derek knew he loved her for more than just her looks. She was intelligent, caring, and passionate. She could keep up with Reid in a conversation. She went shopping with Emily, JJ, and Penelope. She watched Jack to help Hotch. She was quickly becoming a large part in the team's life and even more so in his life.  
Hermione had become a rock in his life, someone to depend on. She was there for him. Even before the relationship was official, he found himself calling her when he was upset or couldn't sleep-it always seemed that she was always awake. She had come to take care of him when he had fallen sick or gotten injured. There were times when he would show up at her home, not sure what he needed or numb to the world and somehow—by some miracle—she always knew how to take care of him, how to make him see the good in the world again. She is a vital part of his life and nothing was changing that now. She was always there for him and he hoped she always would be. Heck, she would watch Clooney when he was on a case, usually staying at his place until he came home.  
Her laughter brought him out of this thoughts and Derek couldn't hold back his smile. "You spoil that dog," he commented with his own laugh, as his dog lapped at her face.  
She raised herself off the ground and padded toward the kitchen. "I adore him," she confessed as she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her cheek on his back. Derek let her hold him for a few moments before he reached around and engulfed her in a hug and held her to him for a few minutes. The only sounds that could be heard were the sizzling of the pan and Clooney's nails on the floor. When the moment ended, Derek cleared his throat, trying not to let his heart pound out of his chest. "Will you grab the wine," he asked. Hermione beamed at him and pulled away to grab the wine out of the chiller.  
Derek had managed to get most of the food onto the plates and he was heading toward the table. __Hermione was following him when Clooney barreled into her in a rush to gobble up the few pieces of meat that had fallen when he'd scooped the food onto the plates. Derek turned just in time to see Hermione as she went ass over teakettle and landed in the puddle of red wine and glass.  
"Shit!" he cursed as he vaulted into the kitchen. He found her on the floor with glass in her hand and red wine all over her blouse. She stared in horror at the wine on the floor and gave a small cry. She withdrew her hand from the floor and stumbled away from it. She glanced at him, not meeting his eyes and asked if she could use his shower. To Derek, her voice sounded brittle and forced. He nodded and followed her towards his bathroom, which he was grateful to say was reasonably clean. "You've got glass in your hand."  
He carefully put his hands on her hips and lifted her to sit on the counter then turned to reached into the mounted medicine cabinet for his first aid kit. He silently pulled out the hydrogen peroxide and a pair of tweezers before gently grabbing for her hand. "I'm sorry," he apologized as he began to pluck out the small slivers of glass. "Clooney didn't mean to knock you over."  
At her lack of response, he looked at her critically. Her eyes were glazed over and had a distant quality to them. What was going on? Finally he had dug out the last of the glass from her palm and with a wash cloth that he retrieved, he gingerly dabbed the blood off.  
She looked so scared and small, he remembering thinking. Derek had managed to get her into a warm shower and, since she had no clothes at his place, he had given her a pair of his workout shorts and an old, sleeveless shirt to wear. He had waited for at least a half hour for her to shut off the water and join him in the living room. "Derek?" she called out, hesitantly. She wandered from the bathroom into the living room, looking lost. Her hair was damp and the clothes he'd given her were far too large…but damn, if she didn't look good in them. If it weren't for the apprehensive look on her face and the stress lines around her eyes, he may have taken her then and there.  
But he didn't. Because even as she walked toward him, his eyes zeroed in on a scar that he hadn't seen before. He knew that she had several-most people get them throughout life-but…this one made him sick. In crude, grotesque handwriting that looked like it had been done with a dull knife was written a word. Mudblood. While he didn't know what it meant—having never heard it used before—it was clear enough to be derogatory. "What the fuck is that?" he snarled as he shot up from the couch.  
She flinched at his anger but he couldn't seem to control it.  
"What the fuck is that?" he repeated. He felt rage flow threw his veins at the thought of someone hurting the woman he loved. "Who hurt you?"  
Her eyes widened and she tried to cover the scaring up. He rushed towards her and pulled the injured arm toward him, acutely aware of her palm. "Let me see," he demanded trying to hold her as if handling glass. He had been so angry that she hadn't told him about the scar before then…after everything he'd shared with her; his fears, his worries, hopes and dreams. But she had never mentioned her own terrors. _Even now he it was difficult for him to remember that day. The day he wanted to confess his love for her in some grand romantic gesture, only to find out about her being held down and tortured by some crazy bitch. He remembered in a flashbulb memory how she had held herself away from him, backing into the corner of the wall and sobbing as she told him everything. The massive secret that was eating her alive, not being able to tell him. It was not how he wanted to hear her say that she loved him for the first time. He never wanted to hear her say it with tears and sobs, but to hear her voice break as she said that she loved him…It broke his heart.  
 _"I've…I've wanted-to tell you. For the longest time," she sobbed. "Even before I fell….Even-Even before I fell in love with you. Oh, gods." She stopped and hiccupped. "But, I l-love you. And I can't just not tell you."  
_ He thought for several terrible, wretched minutes that the woman he loved had lost her mind. That she was hiding an unstable, psychotic belief in magic. Not the magic exists in love and happiness, but wand-waving witchcraft. He didn't think in that moment that he'd ever recover from loving an unstable woman. In those moments he knew that she needed help and he'd be by her side the entire time. Here she stood-talking of magic and a war fought with children on the wings of two megalomaniacs, of a magic school in a castle. She was mad. Unhinged. He was crushed at this revelation.  
And yet, it had made a strange kind of sense. As he listened to her babble…it had begun making sense. All of the odd things that happened around her. The strange this that never made sense. Like the time he knew that she couldn't reach the cup on the top shelf because it was too far back, but it suddenly was closer to the edge of the shelf, just in her reach. The crack on a cup that he'd dropped and found pristine the next time he'd used it. The time they first fought and gotten stuck in the elevator and they should have had to wait for the fire department…

Or the time Clooney had gotten hit by the car. The vet said it would take an act of God for the dog to recover from the internal bleeding…and even if he did, there'd be no guarantee that Clooney would ever walk again. He had called Hermione and a single ring later, she answered. After the words 'Clooney's been hit—' left his mouth, she was demanding an address. Ten minutes later, she arrived coffee in hand and tears in her eyes. She offered him the biggest damned coffee he'd ever seen and told him, in no uncertain terms, that Clooney would be alright. Penelope rushed in twenty minutes later, breathy and disheveled. By the time the coffee had grown cold, Hermione was pushing for Penelope to take him home. She stayed all night at the emergency veterinarian clinic—the receptionist later told him. "She never moved from the seat until we called her back to bring him some comfort…Sir, that dog should have died. But, something wanted your dog to live. After an hour…He was out of the woods. That dog should have died."

While he was still coming to terms with his girlfriend being a—well, a witch, he knew it was just one more thing to love about her. However, he hadn't been easily convinced.

 _"_ _You don't believe me," she accused in disbelief.  
_ _"_ _You're talking of magic, Hermione!—Magic! Maybe…maybe you need to see someone. I'll go with you," he offered, gently. "We can get a doctor…"_

 _She huffed indignantly, "I am not delusional!"  
_ _"_ _I never said you were. But, we should get you to a doctor…"  
_ The more upset she had gotten that night, the more agitated Clooney had gotten. Derek would never forget how his dog turned on him by standing in front of Hermione and raised his hackles. However, what had convinced him about her truthfulness…was her demand that he called Hotch.  
 _"_ _Why the hell do I need to call Hotch?"  
_ _"_ _Just bloody do it," she screamed at him. "He knows!"  
Derek flipped out his phone and quickly dialed Hotch's number. However, it wasn't to appease Hermione. He needed help dealing with her…truthfully he wasn't even sure what hospital he would take her too._

 _"_ _Derek? Whats the matter?" Hotch asked over the phone.  
Derek felt like crying, just breaking down and asking for Hotch to come help him get Hermione the help she so obviously needed. "It's—its Hermione. Hotch, she's sick."  
His boss paused, "How so?"  
"Hotch…she's telling me that she's a witch—like magic and flying broomsticks. She needs help," he pleaded brokenly.  
"She doesn't need help."  
"What? Don't tell me you believe her!"  
"She isn't lying. She is a witch."  
Derek felt betrayal as his unit chief spoke. How could Hotch participate in this sick joke? However, before Derek was able to lash out at his boss, Aaron continued. "Why do you think she watches Jack? Hailey's parents were and Jack is one as well. Ask Hermione to show you something, if you need." Hotch ended the call shortly after and Derek slowly turned back to Hermione.  
"Hotch…said. He said…" Derek would have continued but his voice was stuck in his throat. His brain wasn't working….it just keep echoing 'witch.'  
"I expect he said that I should show you something," she said, sad, understanding colored her voice. "Alright..."_

Perhaps she'd gone overboard, turning Clooney into a cat… but it had certainly gotten her point across. He gaped for several minutes at his cat-dog. The dog that had been a dog…was now a cat. That meowed and purred and rubbed itself against his legs. His dog meowed. Like a cat.

 _"_ _You're…You're a witch. Like a true to God—cauldron, crystal balls, black cat—witch…"_

 _"_ _Cauldron and witch, yes. I've never supported divination and crystal gazing. And the one cat I did have was orange. But, yes, still a witch…"_

 _He paused for a few moments, looking between his distraught woman and his new cat-dog. Her face was blotchy and her eyes red and puffy…and his dog was meowing. "Can I have my dog back?" he asked, pathetically. Her eyes softened and she waved her hand, restoring Clooney to a barking-true dog. "You… were…you were tortured? By that woman?" Some of her story was finally registering in his mind as it kick started. "She carved into you like…like a tree?"  
Oh god…he was going to be so sick. His beautiful, sweet woman with so much love and compassion…was held down and… His stomach churned. Oh, he was going to be so sick. He was queasy and the bile was difficult to swallow back down. He couldn't speak. Couldn't comprehend. How could someone do that to her?  
The FBI agent hadn't even realized that he asked the question aloud until she began speaking about blood-purity and the bigotry of the place she grew up in. She sank to the floor, her knees tucked into her chest. Looking smaller and frailer every moment. The dog who'd caused this whole fiasco whined and tried to cuddle into her and some part of Derek decided he needed to do the same. His limbs took him to her and wrapped around her, holding her. Giving her comfort as much as he was taking it._

They stayed that way for a long time. Brokenhearted and sorrowful. She talked and sobbed about the torture and war and instinctively Derek had known there were things she wasn't mentioning. Not because she was trying to keep things from him, but because the story was long and telling it was tiring.

 _"_ _W-why didn't you tell me sooner? Why haven't I seen your scars before?" One would think that he—a specially trained FBI agent who specialized in details and behavior—would notice these things. But he hadn't. Nonetheless, the hurt in his words was clear and Hermione gazed at him softly._

 _"_ _I couldn't," she murmured. "There's a law…."_

That night had ended with them curled up in his bed, both having cried themselves out. Emotionally wrought. Strung out. Exhausted. Derek hadn't even cared that right before they fell asleep, the bed had dipped and Clooney had snuck under Hermione's arms.

"Derek?" Hotch's voice cut through the memory of that night several months ago and brought the younger man back to the present.

"Some bitch tortured Hermione. They never caught her. She woke up screaming and she was hurting herself. She didn't mean to do it," he defended, despite not needing to do so. "What am I supposed to do, Hotch? How am I supposed to keep her happy and safe when that bitch was never caught? How can I comfort her?"

Derek was getting more and more agitated, "What am I supposed to tell Hermione when she asks why I'm hurt? It would kill her to find out that she did it."

Hotch stayed quiet. Somehow knowing that it was simply time to stay quiet and let the man rant. It seemed to help because the longer he ranted the less hysteric he became. Derek finally ran out of steam and landed heavily in the chair he had started in. "I love her so damn much."

"What are you going to tell her? She's going to ask how you got hurt," Hotch pointed out.

Derek went quiet for a moment. Hermione would never forgive herself is she found out that she was the reason for his injuries. "I'll tell her it was an accident…"


	2. A note to you from InvisiblePuppeteer

Hello all!

I hope you enjoyed this installment of Hermione and Derek's story. I've been getting a lot of requests for Hermione meeting the Team, and I just want to let you all know...

That it's coming. I actually have the document mostly typed-I just don't like it. I really, really don't like it. I'm working on it, though. So, expect it for the future.

Also, I love hearing the requests that you guys give. Feed me more of them. I can't promise that it will get written, but they spark new ideas and I love new ideas!

To those who are reading/have read Healing Wounds One by One, I'm still trying to write it. It's just not happening, but **I WILL COMPLETE IT**! No matter how long it takes, I will finish Healing Wounds because I have a lot planned for it and I think it's good.

Thanks for reading, I'm sorry its only a simple author's note.

Have a wonderful day!

Ever yours,

InvisiblePuppeteer


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